


You're Pretty When You're Angry

by littleglassanimal



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Age Difference, Alternative Universe - Record Store, Angst, Apathy, Cussing, Dragon Age AU, Drinking, Drugs, F/M, Slow Burn, Solavellan, alternative universe, and an equally hot headed lavellan, based on a book, based on a movie, bitter Lavellan, but with my own crazy spin on it, club scene, get ready for hot headed young fen'harel, modern day dragon age, older lavellan - Freeform, one sided pursuit, serious potty mouths, younger solas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 17:17:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13012467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleglassanimal/pseuds/littleglassanimal
Summary: I don't want to start at the beginning, so here you are at the middle of my life....or whatever terminology my friends use these days for my life.  My existence.  My getting by on whiskey, cigarettes, music, and generalized angst.  My shitty attitude graced randomly with life-like events.  Thirty years old, owner of a niche business, single (again...and again...and again....), bitter, jaded, and wondering how in the void I got to this point in my life.





	You're Pretty When You're Angry

**Author's Note:**

> As I was laying down to sleep a little while back, I had a weird thought which led to an even WEIRDER thought - WHY HAS NO ONE MADE A HIGH FIDELITY AU???????
> 
> Weird thought, huh? I immediately came fully awake and pitched it to my friend and amazing beta [shipwreckedwraith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipwreckedwraith/pseuds/shipwreckedwraith) who flipped for the idea. So, here it is. I really really hope you guys flip for it also!

I don't want to start at the beginning, so here you are at the middle of my life....or whatever terminology my friends use these days for my life. My existence. My getting by on whiskey, cigarettes, music, and generalized angst. My shitty attitude graced randomly with life-like events. Thirty years old, owner of a niche business, single (again...and again...and again....), bitter, jaded, and wondering how in the void I got to this point in my life. But, at this very moment in time, we're going to visit the part of that list that mentioned single (again). Because, as I ruminate, it's happening (again).

Look at him gathering up some of his things as he prepares to leave me - face flustered and his normally carefully styled hair beginning to show its natural curl under the stress sweating he's doing. I found him irresistibly handsome at one point. I think I described him to my best friend Vivienne as 'completely fuckable.' What had started as mutual sex and a mutual quelling of loneliness had edged its way into relationship status and before I knew it, he was moving in when his lease was up. That had been three years ago. Now? I had completely fucked him alright. In more ways than the usual sense of the word.

"You really fucked me up, you know that?" See. "I find it ridiculous that you won't just TALK to me." His hand is at the back of his neck in a move I once found incredibly charming because it hinted at his adorable awkwardness. It was an awkwardness that had mostly disappeared with a new job and a build up of confidence. When we'd first met, he hid behind a pair of glasses and old band t-shirts. Now look at him. Exquisitely pressed slacks and pristine white button up shirts. Ties that hang from his neck like a noose. Contact lenses. Perfectly coifed hair that hides his curls. I hate looking at him now.

"I fucked you up? You're the one that called me...what was it?" I couldn't help but allow some dramatics into my pose as I tilted my head to the side and tapped at my lips. "OH YEAH immature and emotionally stunted." Listen to that sigh he's giving me. He's going to tell me it was in the heat of the moment....watch.

"You know that was one of those heated moment argumentative statements." See. I swat his out-reached hand away and move into another room as I spit over my shoulder at him "And you know that it was completely true. Just get your things and go already." I pretend at dejection. I play at being the hurt party, but the truth of it is that he IS right. I mean, you heard me not even try to deny that he was. The past year and a half has been nothing but a downhill slide into a ball pit of resentment and tiny, cutting barbs made about both of our lifestyles. There's nothing wrong with _my_ lifestyle. I like it just fine and I have for the past seven or so years. He's the one in the wrong....trying to change me. Trying to get me to see how HE thinks I could do better for myself. Trying to get me to get a real job and sell my shop. Trying to get me to stop getting tattoos. Trying to get me to stop smoking...drinking....cussing.....get other exercise other than skateboarding to work. Trying to mold me into future Mrs. Rutherford status.

Trying and failing, am I right? At least I'm not pretending at something I'm not.

I'm going to be blunt here. He's better off without me. I tell him so. "You're better off without me, Cullen. We both fucking know this, so I don't get why you insist on trying to make it work. You're too good for me." Did you hear that little sniffle I gave him? Yeah, that was for his benefit only. Didn't I say earlier that I was being dramatic? Did you also hear that phantom, dangling 'now' at the end of that sentence? "I have to get back to the shop. Can you hurry?" If my voice wavers a little, it's due more to the fact that I'm bent over tying my shoes and my mostly out of shape ass is having trouble speaking than it is because I'm upset he's leaving.

I'm actually pretty stoked to have my space back. I'm less stoked that he's now standing in the doorway with his shapely arms crossed over his chest.

"I can still come help you with inventory. I did promise I would weeks ago." The sigh I let out is now due more to the fact that I am annoyed than it is about my out of shape ass sitting up straight and can finally breathe correctly. "Please just go. Please don't show up at the shop. Please?" Like, how fucking awkward if he did, am I right? I can just see the guys at the shop now: _"Why are you guys acting so weird?" "Oh we just broke up, no big woop."_ Fuck that noise. I tuck my chin down towards my chest and stare at my shoes. My fingers are picking at the ancient quilt on my bed. Out of the corner of my eye I can see him uncross his arms and that fucking hand go back up to that fucking thick ass neck. "Okay." Another sigh from his chest. "Okay, well you know where I'm staying if you decide you finally want to talk to me." His voice is less harsh than before, and instead of being endearing to me, I find it annoying. I take a beat before I nod, and there he is picking up his duffel, briefcase, and grabbing his rolling suitcase to head for the door.

Finally.

"There's leftovers from Patrice's in the fridge. At least make sure you eat something...." My eyes are rolling back in my head as I wait for the sound of the door opening and then finally closing behind his ridiculously sculpted ass. I mean, I really am going to miss seeing his body around the place, but I'm not sad about it.

Look, here's the thing. Yeah, I spent a lot of time dealing with his petty little remarks about my stagnant life. BUT, in the end, I really am the one who fucked it all up. As per usual. I mean, I just don't really know how to end things like a normal adult. You all end things completely maturely and with a handshake, right?

I kid. Mostly. Wanna know how I end things? Spectacularly bad.

I sleep with other people.

I never said that I was in the right in this breakup, simply that I'd been enduring his barbs for a while now. There are always two sides, it just so happens that I usually tend to be the bad side. It's easier for me to be the asshole in the breakup scenario than it is for me to be the butt hurt crybaby. I _really_ hate to cry. So, instead, I fuck everything up in a most spectacular fashion.

After falling back on my bed, I reach over and light a smoke before sliding my cell phone out of my back pocket to text Vivienne. She's going to want to lecture me on my bad relationship habits.

—————————————-  
Iron Lady               (17:51) |  
—————————————-  
Tell me how the talk goes,  
darling.

 

                                                                  —————————————-  
                                                                  | Darkstar              (21:22)  
                                                                  —————————————-  
                                                                  he's gone. owe you a  
                                                                  hundred on that bet....  
                                                                  less than five years.

 

—————————————-  
Iron Lady               (21:25) |  
—————————————-  
Need me to call?

 

                                                                 —————————————-  
                                                                 | Darkstar              (21:26)  
                                                                 —————————————-  
                                                                 naw, i'm fine. was all on me  
                                                                 anyhow. you know i'm  
                                                                 damaged goods.

 

—————————————-  
Iron Lady               (21:29) |  
—————————————-  
You are entirely too hard  
on yourself, dear. The two  
of you have been in a  
battle of change for far too  
long. I was wondering  
when you would finally  
win that fight.

 

                                                                —————————————-  
                                                                | Darkstar              (21:31)  
                                                                —————————————-  
                                                                you are suuuuuch a know  
                                                                it all, aren't you?

 

—————————————-  
Iron Lady               (21:32) |  
—————————————-  
This is why you love me,  
darling.

 

                                                              —————————————-  
                                                              | Darkstar              (21:32)  
                                                              —————————————-  
                                                              this is why i love you. i'll  
                                                              call you soon.

 

—————————————-  
Iron Lady               (21:33) |  
—————————————-  
Yes you will. You owe me  
that much.

Ta, darling.

 

 

I love her, the bitch. She knows me so well and has absolutely zero qualms of calling me out on my shit.

I really do have to get to the store, though. So I stub out my cigarette, grab my headphones and longboard, and head out. The neighborhood is quiet, and I'm relieved to see Cullen's Jeep is gone. I thought he might stick around and offer me a ride to the shop. Even after what I did to him......even after breaking his trust and cheating on him.....ugh.

He really is too good for me. Even after all of that, he still tried to stick it out. He still wanted to talk about it. He wanted to go to counseling. He wanted me still. I don't deserve all that.

Listen, I know you think I'm a cold ass bitch, and I can be. I really, really can be. I don't deny it. But I did love him. I did. But time makes me antsy and it's par for the course that I will eventually tire of whatever thing is going on in my life at that moment in time. I did love him, but he deserved better than what I could ever offer.

Headphones on, iPod cued up to side b - track 6 of Joy Division's Closer, longboard under my feet, wind in my hair as I sail down the sidewalk. Despite having planned the destruction of my relationship, I do feel melancholy about it. Ian Curtis's wobbly baritone and post-punk lyrical genius has the right of it.

Existence well what does it matter?  
I exist on the best terms I can.  
The past is now part of my future,  
The present is well out of hand.  
The present is well out of hand.

Heart and soul, one will burn.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, if you loved it please leave comments and kudos. Send me suggestions and prompts over on tumblr if you'd like!!! https://littleglassanimalwrites.tumblr.com/


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